#s&co discord

[littleoceanbabe]

i have been attacked. humiliated. demoralized. ASK THE MAN ABOUT THE DINOSAURS, PODCAST BOY 🫵

[fros-art]

someone in the s&co patreon discord told me to draw this so uh. who am i to say no (it wasnt a request it was a command). john podcast watson you are down so so bad

[cryptic-science]

i must. injonktrinate. more people on the internet. you WILL listen to sherlock & co. and you WILL enjoy it.

[abstractfrog]

@jofflock: Hi I dont really know how this app works! But I wanted to make sure you saw that John has seen your comic and he likes it 😁😁😁😁

___

abstractfrog: ?!?!?!? i had to get up and pace around the room because of this. I live in a world where John Watson has seen my art

[skeletor-n-a-meatsuit]

This is a form of media I've never before encountered–

Real time fan interaction that stays canon to the story they're telling.

if you're not on the sherlock & co patreon i would like you to know that sherlock, john, and mariana have all agreed that they would still love one another if they were all, in seperate scenarios, turned into worms

[ramazottin]

I ❤️ FORSAKEN SO HERE'S ALL THE LORE I COULD FIND

(From the wiki, ingame descriptions/dialouge and the discord.)

••••••••KILLERS••••••••

COOLKID

His wiki description: An adopted son from a single father with childlike curiosity, but with the strength of a monster. He appears as a red, flesh-like humanoid that can kill fast and traverse fast. He is known for his association with a vandalization group called "team c00lkidd".

C00lkidd is scared of John Doe. [007n7 (c00lkidd's father) told him stories about John Doe.]

The sword coolkid uses is the firebrand from SFOTH

In Forsaken's lore, c00lkidd is only 10 years old.

c00lkidd is not fully aware of what he's doing, as he believes he's just roughhousing and thinks everyone he kills is just tired out and taking a nap.

c00lkidd likes dirt cake, which is made with crushed up cookies (preferably in a dark color), pudding, and gummy worms. The cookies represents dirt and the gummy worms resemble live earthworms.

c00lkidd loved reindeers, being mentioned when you buy the Reindeer skin of 007n7.

I TRIED MY BEST TO FIT ALL THE PICTURES ON A SINGLE PAGE(since tumblr only allows 10 pictures per post)

1X1X1X1

1x4's wiki description: The physical manifestation of pure malice, hatred, and negativity himself; the one who despises no one else more than the former admin, Shedletsky. With the daemonshank in his hands, he can summon beings of rot from the deceased, as well as target survivors from afar, poisoning them in the process.

1x1x1x1 is genderfluid.

When he kills you, 1x4 fills your head with poison then crushes it.

JOHN DOE

His wiki description: The defunct code of the early days of Roblox courses through their body, consuming his mind as he now only focuses on one thing: to kill everyone in his path. An unstoppable force entering the round with a strategical mindset, he's able to set traps, summon walls to back survivors into a corner, and leave behind a faint trail that damages those who step on it.

He prefers either super basic foods or fancy dishes.

John Doe doesn't use his right arm (the heavily corrupted one) to attack, since it's really heavy and inconvenient.

John and Jane doe are canonically a married couple. After John got corrupted, he no longer remembers her.

JASON

Jason's wiki description: A man who's identity is covered by a crude hockey mask. Wielding several tools at his disposal, along with his thirst for the cat-and-mouse chase, his hands and/or tools are always seen bloody. He enters his damnation wielding his infamous machete & a chainsaw he found in a cabin.

•••••••SURVIVORS•••••••

007n7

007n7 uses a lesser version of the c00lgui because it is all he had access to at the time.

007n7 is canonically retired from hacking.

007n7 wears his shirt because c00lkidd likes it.

007n7 is C00lkidd's adoptive father.

C00lkidd showed up on his doorstep as a pill baby.

007n7 feels a pang of familiarity whenever he sees C00lkidd in the rounds.

007n7 has a special death animation if killed by c00lkidd, where c00lkidd gently lays him down on the ground. He also does not resist in the death animation.

007n7 is a good dad.

SHEDLETSKY

Shedletsky is seemingly the leader of the survivor group, with his Co-Leader Builderman. Shedletsky has made a vow with Builderman to attempt to keep everyone safe, no matter what.

If 1x1x1x1 and Shedletsky are the only ones left, a different last man standing song will play, which is called “Meet your Maker”, and the timer will have an extra 20-30 seconds (one of the devs said it was to let the whole song play LMAO). This is due to Shedletsky being the one to actually create 1x1x1x1, by making a test account on Roblox and naming it respectively. He then rumored about 1x1x1x1 being a hacker and he not having the account, (which he obviously did). The quote “Blame John” comes from that.

TWO TIME

Their wiki description: A fragile cultist holding a horrible secret. When mortally wounded, they resurrect themselves with wings and tails, and recover as if nothing had happened. They are a self-described Shadow with an unstable mind and guilt-stricken after the betrayal against their own partner. They still carry on, after all, shadows die twice.

Two Time is said to be "messed up in the membrane". This is also why they smile during rounds.

They believe in the concept of respawning and likely worships the spawn-point.

Two Time used to be in relationship with an upcoming killer, Azure.

It was said they stabbed Azure with a dagger which led to them becoming a killer.

The description of Undying Devotion is most likely Azure saying "what have you done..?" after being stabbed by Two Time.

It is possible that Two time sacrificed Azure to gain their second life.

Two time is nonbinary and uses they/them.

ELLIOT

He will do whatever he can to help his teammates and deliver his orders due to his sheer dedication for his job.

CHANCE

Their wiki descriprion: A wealthy limited trader and underground casino worker, Chance is one who is fascinated with gambling and will even gamble with his own life just because he's convinced he'll win. There is no route he won't go just to gamble some more, even in a life or death situation.

Chance owes Bluudud a domino, as said in one of the voicelines of Bluudud.

Chance is nonbinary and uses he/they.

BUILDERMAN

Builderman is canonically the boss at Roblox, and the main person who builds the site itself. When all goes wrong he has to be the one to go out and fix things, stopping the killers in their tracks.

As a promise with Shedletsky, he'll do all he can to help everyone.

GUEST 1337

Guest 1337 is the main character of the animated series The Last Guest by ObliviousHD, with his story in Forsaken taking place after the events of Part 1.

His wiki description: A hardened veteran with battle scars from wars long ago. He has a tendency to sacrifice himself in order to keep those around him safe.

Guest 1337 entered the world of Forsaken after blowing himself up in part 1 of The Last Guest.

Guest 1337 misses his family and thinks about them between rounds.

Guest 1337 has a wife (Daisy) and a daughter (Charlotte.)

One of Guest 1337's skins called "Matt" is another character from The Last Guest series. He is Guest 1337's best friend ever since they were kids and fought in the battlefield with Guest 1337 before getting shot. Matt survived getting shot and now wears a cast on his leg. (This is not related to Forsaken just so you know)

NOOB

Noob's wiki description: A big snack person at heart, Noob has a handful of food items at their disposal. Sneaking by with their ghostburger, moving faster with their cola, and tanking damage with their slateskin, they're scared, but still pushes on, wanting to find an escape.

Noob is Genderfluid

They are a big snack person. Bloxxy cola is their favorite as it is also guest 666's favorite. (Answer to the question "what's noob's favorite food/drink?" on discord.)

Noob and Guest666 will have a special chase theme in the future, just like shedletsky abd 1x1x1x1/007n7 and coolkid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's some other funny shit i could find lol:

[syneilesis]

[fic] Impact Factor

Impact Factor

Love and Deepspace | Zayne (Li Shen) x Main-Character!Reader | G | 4k words | ao3 link

god, i'm so lovesick. what have you done to me? You tell Zayne that you're co-authoring a research paper. He finds himself wanting and waiting to read it.

A/N: For @seraphiism 's 2024 writing event. I chose Lovesick by Laufey. I know. Zayne? Lovesick? Lmao I don't know if I pulled it off, but I have to write for Zayne at least once.

I gave this fic a single, cursory proofread. Any mistake is still my fault. Divider by @/saradika

“By the way, a professor of mine in college reached out to me last week and asked me if I was interested in co-authoring an article with her on the phenomenology of vocation of the people working in Hunters Association.”

The clacking of the keyboard is crisp and loud in the silverlined office, accompanied by the low hum of the airconditioner. Zayne's attention remains on the computer, updating your status condition. He makes a brief noise to indicate that he's listening, and when he takes his gaze away from the desktop he finds you watching him with a faint grin on your face.

“Do you want me to guess your reply?”

That faint grin grows wide and whole.

“What do you think?”

Zayne leans back and rolls his chair a little farther, reaching out to turn on the printer. The machine whirls to life, chatters.

“You accepted the offer, of course.” He returns to his laptop and clicks on the print icon. “You don't have the heart to refuse your professor.”

“Dr. Zayne, you know me so well.”

Something in the way you said it compels him to turn to you again. Your expression hasn't changed, but the fall of your hair frames your slightly narrowed eyes that sparkle under the bright fluorescent light, like rare midday stars. It staggers the beats of Zayne's heart for two seconds, seizes his throat, and in that sliver of a moment Zayne forgets to breathe.

“Maybe it's because you're transparent,” he says, after retrieving the prescription from the printer. He hands you the paper, and surprise stretches your features. He clarifies: “Supplements. Undoubtedly you will need it when you begin your research.”

“Nothing less from my doctor.” My. The word is malleable around your mouth. And then: “I'm transparent? Is that a bad thing?”

“It's not a flaw.” He signs the healthcare forms you passed onto him. “But neither is it a virtue.”

“Hmm. Then, I guess I'll watch myself.”

His head jerks at your response, and Zayne has something to say to that—something like your not needing to be conscious of how open you are—but then your watch beeps and you apologize for the sudden departure.

Alone in his office, Zayne sinks into his chair and closes his eyes.

▼

That exchange, brief yet odd, lingers in Zayne's mind, like a stone at the base of his brain, next to the stem and cerebellum. He can feel its weight, its matter, solid and bothersome that at one point Greyson stops and asks him, “Are you okay, Dr. Zayne? You seem to be distracted today.”

A flash of memory; the word transparent, your answer. Were it not for the emergency mission, he would have hastened to add that transparency is closely associated with sincerity—and that is a virtue. He imagines a version of you as secretive as a glacier, as closed-off as a fortress, and the dissonance it invites rings discordant in the history between you—you who have always reached out to him first.

His hands itch for the phone that's secluded in one of his drawers, away from distraction, from memory. Zayne is, after all, duty first, the rest a distant second.

“It's nothing,” he tells Greyson. “I'm fine.”

“Maybe it's time for a vacation? You've been busy—busier than usual—lately.”

“I'll take a vacation at the end of the year. Right now, you're needed in the meeting room for a briefing.”

When Greyson clears the area, Zayne turns and sees Yvonne near the entrance of the lobby, studying him, her face arranged in a way that invites him to defend himself for some reason. But he resists the irrational urge.

He meets her scrutiny with a long and stoic gaze, and she shakes her head, wordless, then continues on with her work.

Left in the hallway, Zayne sighs and goes back to his office.

▼

“Dr. Zayne!”

Shapes of different colors coalesce into your reflection on the glass that displays the myriad cakes Zayne's been deliberating upon for the last fifteen minutes. The figure looms larger and larger, until it sidles up next to him and he straightens up, turning to his side.

“What a coincidence,” you continue with a glancing smile, hand on your chin as you survey the available pastries for purchase. “Are you buying desserts too?”

Earlier, Akso Hospital had a rare moment of slowness that allowed its personnel to indulge in a breather, which afforded Zayne to clock out on time. As a treat—and he will never admit this to anyone—he's stopped by the bakeshop on the way home, and to his surprise, here you are as well.

To your question he can only give a noncommittal sound; then to the cashier he points at the sea salt caramel vanilla slice that he's wanted to try for a while now. Both you and the cashier let out an intrigued Oh! before the purchase is processed at the register.

“Sea salt caramel vanilla,” you say with an evaluatory seriousness, “good choice.”

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose.

“By the way, I've started on the research project. Been doing some preliminary reading since I don't want to disappoint my former professor. So far I'm doing well—the supplements are a great help!”

The supplements. He had an inkling that, as you are wont to do with every mission, you were rushing into this project with all your mind and body, tunnel-visioned, only the end goal visible in your sights. This unfortunately excludes concerns regarding your health, and Zayne is correct: all nighters and skipped meals, both of which erode the state of a person's health. When you are focused on something, that something takes the highest priority, and he can't always be with you all the time to remind you to take a break, or eat healthy food, or drink water. Which is why: supplements. They're not preventative, but at least they mitigate.

And it seems you're telling the truth: no tightness in your eyes and tautness in the shape of your mouth. In this case—in the case of your aspiration to conceal—you have not changed—or at least attempted to hold yourself back. Something in his chest loosens, smooths the tenseness out of his muscles that Zayne hasn't realized is there.

This is something to ponder, but not at the moment.

“I don't have to remind you that supplements are not substitutes for healthy food and proper sleep, do I?”

“Of course not! Even I know that.” But then your expression turns sheepish. “In practice, that's a little ...”

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose again.

“But don't worry too much about me, Dr. Zayne! I'm taking care of myself just fine!”

“That doesn't instill much confidence.”

“How about this, then?” And you face him fully, a ready smile brimming with its own confidence and assurance, as radiant as an aurora. “If something happens, you will be the first person I'll turn to.”

At that Zayne pauses. The easy trust you bring between the both of you warms his neck, the back of it, climbing up, up, up to the tips of his ears and to his cheeks. He moves on to the cashier, his back on you.

“Try not to let that 'something' happen, but I know you're too stubborn to listen.”

A chuckle, and then: “I can't make any promises, but I'll try.”

This time, Zayne turns back.

“'Try' implies effort, so I am expecting effort.”

You snap a salute, grinning. “Got it, Doc!”

▼

The day after that, Zayne begins to read up on the subject of phenomenology.

▼

It won't be a couple of weeks until Zayne sees you again—but this time it's under the harsh hospital lights and the din of frantic footsteps and rolling wheels, the mixed scents of blood and antiseptic stinging his nose. A Wanderer surge disrupted the southern part of Linkon, and of the hunters dispatched you had been one of them.

Zayne glides around the moving bodies, steps never faltering until he finds you tucked in a corner, cradling your broken arm.

When his shadow falls upon your involuted frame, you lift your head and a rueful grin greets him. Your glass-sheen gaze doesn't escape his scrutiny.

He's wearing his white coat, and both of his hands retreat into its pockets, where he closes them into tight fists. If Zayne tilts his head a little more to the right, he can see a lengthy gash that lines along your temple and into your scalp, covered by your blood-crusted hair. He is painfully aware that this is part and parcel of your profession, the risk that endangers a hunter during a mission. A part of him is thankful that today it is only a broken arm and a couple of wounds. It could have been much worse, and Zayne refuses to imagine a scenario where you come into the hospital drained of vitality. A frustrated sigh threatens to spill out of him, but he endures, and just pointedly shoots you a disappointed look.

“So this is all the effort that you mentioned just amounted to.”

“To be fair I was doing well for a couple of hours until I had to rescue a civilian trapped in a damaged building.”

“That is commendable.” And he means it. But—“Follow that nurse with the brown clipboard. He's in charge of injuries like yours. Can you walk that far?”

Your uninjured hand braces against the wall and you pull yourself up, the motion not quite fluid but not a slow stagger either. Zayne would have assisted you, but it seems that you can do it on your own.

“It's my arm that's broken, not my legs.” A wincing smile, and you start to make your way forward. “I know that you have to take care of other people, Dr. Zayne, but thanks for checking up on me.”

Behind him, a nurse calls his name, a signal to go back to his work. There are other patients who need his attention more than you do, and overall you seem fine, still put together. A broken arm can heal over time, given proper medical care. And Zayne knows, intimately, that Akso does not lack for anything.

Still. It's not entirely on purpose, but Zayne calls your name.

“I—” he begins, as you slow down to wait for whatever he's going to say. His throat struggles, constricting and opening in subconscious reflex. “I'd still rather not worry about you like this.”

In and around the space between you and him, the hospital remains astir—shadows and silhouettes slipping in and out of Zayne's sight—until they give way to the blossoming smile on your face, eclipsing everything from the back to the fore, a pinpoint mark on the map.

Later, even as he tends to his patients, your smile persists in Zayne's mind, an afterimage that refuses to disappear behind his eyelids.

▼

Exactly one week after that incident, Zayne receives a bouquet of jasmines and a box of banana bread. Attached to it is a pristine white card with a line written: Don't forget to take care of yourself too!

The card stays in his breast pocket well beyond his working hours, right next to his beating heart.

▼

Days pass, weeks, months, and Zayne finds himself browsing through phenomenology journals during his break in the hopes of seeing your name in one of them. He knows that you'll tell him once it's published, but there's a part of him that clamors for the first touch of knowledge, the letters that make up your name woven in the glowing screen of his tablet.

At the same time, Greyson and Yvonne have bitten into their suspicions—whatever they are, Zayne refuses to ask—and swallowed the succulence as if it's a juicy truth. Often he sees Greyson glancing at him with a shadow of a smile, a quick sleight of hand that when Zayne fully faces him his expression is already ironed out and professional. Yvonne is no better: all glimmering eyes and knowing grins and incessant questions about his mood. Once, he asked the reason for the barrage of questions and Yvonne ignored the frost in his voice and tittered, telling him that sometimes in life, they have to combat the monotony with exciting things.

It worries him somewhat that you and Yvonne and even Greyson have been getting along quite well for a time now.

But your name still doesn't appear, and it doesn't seem to be appearing in the foreseeable future. Still Zayne searches, his fingers already making a habit of typing your name in the bar, his heart beating for a yes.

▼

At some point, he's asked about your progress.

“It's been going well,” you answer. “Professor made some comments about the part in my results and discussion, so I'm going to revise that. I think we can submit it by next month if we maintain the pace.”

After a thoughtful pause, you rest your arms on his desk, cushion your chin on them, and angle him a sly look.

“Are you offering to proofread my work, Dr. Zayne?”

“I may need a box of red pens for that.”

That jolts a laugh out of you, and you recover by sending a mock pout his way.

“I’ll have you know that I was a diligent writer in college! I won in essay writing competitions!”

“Is that so? Then I suppose your first foray in academic publishing will be a successful ‘accepted with minor revisions’ reply from the editor.”

“Of course! Oh, fine, fine. I won’t ask you to proofread the manuscript. You can just wait until it’s published.”

A small, genuine smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

▼

Eventually, he receives a text that says, We finally submitted the article! Now we just have to wait 🫣

He excuses himself from a cluster of medical professionals talking about the latest breakthroughs in oncology and parks himself beside the long table of drinks. He texts back: Watch out for Reviewer #2. They’re always the culprit.

It takes a full ten minutes before you reply, and during that period of anticipation four individuals have come up to him and attempted to pull him into a conversation about his accomplishments and recent research—one even braving to entice him into applying to another hospital.

Zayne shakes them off as politely as he can (and to that one poacher he gives a cold and resolute no). When his phone beeps, he turns away and redirects his undivided attention to the screen. All your latest message contains is a single salute emoji and the single-word sentence Gotcha! A laugh startles out of him, which Yvonne—having developed an eagle eye for Zayne in the recent weeks—notices and she scurries over to Greyson, bowing their heads in hushed whispers, glancing at him every now and then.

He's realized what they'd been talking about whenever he's in their vicinity, and he's tempted to refute their assumptions and retaliate accordingly. But the stone-weight in his mind had transformed into a persistent itch that does not choose when it strikes. In most cases it's merely annoying, but on rare occasions it is, frankly, merciless. A good-night text echoes in his dreams, and Zayne wakes with a thick sweetness coating the inside of his mouth. A fleeting touch from your worried hand burns the skin of his arm, the heat seeping into the layers until it reaches the subcutaneous tissue, where it spreads all over his body through the veins. He has to evade your glare to hide the ruddiness of his cheeks. Capitulation is the only option he had to choose in the end, and the idea of surrendering to this melts away the reflexive inquiry of when and how and why—a trait he had to hone as a doctor and a researcher.

What else is left when all the signs are pointing to this one immutable conclusion? 

▼

On the day and hour your article is published Zayne is in the middle of a delicate surgery that takes him five hours and two hysterical family members of the patient—even with Evol involved. He emerges from the operating room with good news and exhausted-yet-relieved colleagues, Greyson's smile emerging from the doors the first indicator of a successful operation.

The patient's mother clings to him in tearful gratitude.

He orients the family on the next steps, and as he signs the healthcare forms he discovers a new slice of wound on the back of his hand, thin but lengthy. He has long since accepted that his hands, his arms, will forever be spattered with scars, and if that's the price he has to pay for saving lives, then it's of no consequence to him.

(Once, he had caught your gaze glued to his hands, so he snapped his fingers, startling you into looking at his face.

“What was that for?” you demanded.

“You're not paying attention.”

“I was just—” you bit your lip, torn. A pause, then: “Did they hurt—each one of them?”

He glanced down and studied each scar. Too many, you'd probably think. But not once had they bothered him.

“I never even noticed them in the first place, so no.”

“Okay.” Your eyes were crystal glass and the deep breath you took was stuttering in all its inelegance. “Okay.”)

A sliver of a break provides him the opportunity to sink into reprieve, and his hand gropes for his phone on the desk, peeking out under a sheaf of documents that he has to fill out later.

A cursory look at the screen, and then Zayne is leaping for the computer.

The research article you and your professor had written is kept behind a paywall. Zayne spares a moment to shut his eyes in irritation. He's fortunate that his university library account is still active, so he utilizes that privilege to gain access to the article’s full version, made available by the university’s database.

When the file loads, he syncs it to his tablet, after which he leans back on the chair and settles to read. He can locate which parts you had a hand in writing, and the parts where your style comes out. It isn't his field, but he has read enough to venture that the insights of this paper are valuable. Unwittingly, a proud smile surfaces on his lips.

At the end of the article, in the acknowledgment section, something is curiously written:

The co-author is grateful for the moral and medical support of Akso Hospital's Dr. Zayne. Dr. Zayne, would you like to have dinner with me? As a date. Yes, I'm asking you out.

Zayne’s mind blanks out and the itch returns, scrabbling at the walls of his skull, loud and frenetic and overwhelming all his senses. His entire body warms and the sensation of crawling needles prickle at his skin. Everything is white noise; his heart threatens to jump out of his ribcage. He gets the ridiculous thought that he can't perform a surgery on himself.

The next thing he knows, he's driving his car at the same time dialing your number. The car speakers amplify the ringing tone once his phone is attached to the dashboard. Both his hands tightly grip the steering wheel.

When the call connects, he opens with “What would you do if I hadn't read your article?”

He can practically hear the smile in your voice; it resounds around the car interior. “That's not an option, Dr. Zayne. You would have definitely read the article.”

Laughter bubbles up inside him; he tamps it down. “Confident now, are we?”

“Of course!” A pause; a shuffle of feet. You must be heading to another room. “I hear car engine, where are you now?”

“On the way to your apartment.”

“Wait, don't—go to this restaurant instead. I'll text you the address. I have it all reserved and ready.”

He blinks once, twice, surprise slackening the muscles on his face. “... You haven't even heard my answer yet.”

“You can tell me at the restaurant. And then we'll celebrate with excellent food, excellent wine, and scrumptious desserts.”

“You sound so certain about receiving a positive response.”

“I'm optimistic that way, Dr. Zayne. I'm heading out now—I'll see you in a bit!”

You hang up, and the speakers beep into silence. Two seconds later Zayne presses the hazard switch. The car slows down and then comes to a halt on the side of the road. Other vehicles zoom past him. Without the need to drive, Zayne can finally give in to the urge to exhale aloud and let out a brief yet astounded laugh, forehead pressing against the leather smoothness of the steering wheel.

You've always been transparent. But Zayne has made the crucial mistake of neglecting the fact that you are also clever. If this were a competition, you've already won.

▼

You're already at the restaurant when he arrives, sat on the corner facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, the shifting lights outside dancing over your serene profile. Your elbows rest on the table, where everything is already set up except the food. A vase of red roses at the center completes the picturesque scene.

You lift your head and welcome him with a triumphant grin once he's a few steps away. And when he settles on the chair opposite you, you lean forward and stare at him expectantly.

“You could have asked like a normal person,” Zayne begins.

“I could have,” you agree, nodding, “but I like it this way. I like to get closer to you through the things you do.”

Another moment of Zayne getting caught off-center: the warmth flushing outward from the core of his body like vibrant ink on clean, clear water. He has to lower his gaze from the sheer brilliance of your certainty, the way your patience and care have allowed this moment between the two of you, something that he has never imagined culminating like this: two people sitting opposite each other, in this softly lit restaurant while the world bursts into festive lights outside it. The tender way your hand moves across the table, stopping right before the flower vase, as if affording him the liberty to arrive at a decision Zayne has already made, many, many months (years) ago, just buried under the strata of responsibilities, boundaries, and improbabilities.

Never the when, never the how, never the why. It is, only, sublimely, this.

Zayne sighs with a rueful shake of his head. “It's not yet too late—maybe I should answer by publishing my own research article.” But the hand meeting yours belies his words.

Your smile: pleased, pleasure, like the sun emerging from the winter sky.

He's too occupied with the touch of your hand and the radiance of your expression that Zayne misses the throwaway comment that tumbles past his lips:

“If we're talking about getting closer through doing the things the other does, then I suppose I should propose to you when we're in the middle of a Wanderer invasion.”

And then he realizes what he just said.

Zayne whips his head up, heart in throat, and scrambles for an excuse. “What I meant was—”

“Getting ahead of ourselves now, are we?” Your face is pure indulgence, pure bliss. Your hand squeezes his, not letting go. “Don't worry, Dr. Zayne; I'm looking forward to it.”

And that lustrous smile, sustained. Zayne relaxes and you release him to clap your hands together, delighted.

“Now then! Shall we have our dinner?”

▼

(You have, indeed, delivered in all aspects: excellent food, excellent wine, and scrumptious desserts.)

[who-is-page]

Highly recommend checking out my partners @liongoatsnake / House of Chimeras' timelines and @frameacloud / Orion Scribner's timeline for this, if you haven't already!

Hey, I'm looking for testimonials and stories from people who are part of the otherkin, therian, and fictionkin communities! I'm outlining ideas for a video essay on the comprehensive history of otherkin and I'm looking for anyone willing to share in regards to things they experienced in the community, particular incidents, notable events, and anything else that folks might want to contribute that you think belongs in a video chronicling the full history! I'd be particularly interested in hearing from people who were in the fictionkin community on Tumblr around late 2014-early 2015 since the events happening during that period were pretty pivotal in changing the course of the community, but any stories anyone has would be great! They do not have to be Tumblr-based experiences; if you were in any other communities on any other sites be they social media, forums, in-person, etc, I'd love to hear from you!

If there's anything you'd like to share, please feel free to send me an ask or a message here with the best way to contact you (or we can correspond through tumblr if that's more comfortable) and I'd love to chat! Any information you give can be credited or anonymous to your own comfort. I'm really excited to make this video since one like it that touches on a lot of the important details I remember doesn't really exist as far as I'm aware. Thank you so much for your time!

[mistakeofnature]

RAHHHH IM FINALLY DONE

EVERYONE

SAY HELLO TO THE “CHILDREN OF THE CROW” AU

The basic premise is that the AU splits completely from the canon at s2 ep4/5

The kids get “forcefully adopted” by the cult of crowface (and crowface themselves) and are kept there (and tortured) until they are able to basically kill crowface and return to society (as much as they can) at 16/17

Also just so ya are aware, Michael and Larry are not part of that, but they are also traumatized as hell <3

I need ideas for finch tho lowkey

This AU is an amalgamation of my AU (decoy/sacrifice nicky AU that does not have a better name) and @devdimmadome-apologist ‘s AU with their OC Mar

We co - own this AU <3

I will post more about it in the future but feel free to ask me any questions regarding it here or on my WTRB discord server (shameless plug fr fr)

[woofuspigeon]

…the hyperfixation took over after reading a little rancher snippet in the Hermit Coffee Co discord :p

(From @soemthingsparkly ‘s amazing fic)

[egrets-not-regrets]

Paperweight

Inspired by a discord conversation about businessman Guilliman being mean and stepping on his little secretary who is picking up papers on the ground.

Author’s Note: TW: Dubcon, humiliation, power imbalance, slight smut. Modern AU CEO Roboute Guilliman. Honestly this could apply to a few other primarchs.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @whorety-k

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams, @yurihasurunbara

“I’m sorry, Mr. Guilliman, sir.” You whimpered looking at his icy blue eyes, licking your dry lips nervously. Then looked down at the scatter of paper and folders on the ground.

The imposing businessman tsk-ed with annoyance, “You clumsy slut. Go fetch.” his deep commanding voice ordered. You blushed, embarrassed, being humiliated like this was not part of your job description, but this was not the first time he did this. Besides, who would believe you should you complain? Which other job would pay this much for the work you do? You just graduated and still have to pay back your student loans. You suppose you should count your lucky stars that the ceo of McCragge Financial Co. did not decide to humiliate you in public instead.

“Yes, Mr…” his brow rose. You paused, then correcting yourself, “Yes, sir…” you whispered. Tugging down the hem of your short skirt (too short) uneasily as you bent down in front of him to gather the fallen documents.

You shuddered feeling heat rushing down your chest. You could feel Mr. Guilliman’s eyes on you, roving over every inch of your figure, finally settling on the curves of your as confined in the tight little skirt you wore. It wasn’t your choice of clothes, but it was one of the many outfits that Mr. Guilliman bought, and insisted that you wear to work. “Work uniform” he said, “You need to look professional and neat.”

A sudden boot to your ass knocked you out of your thoughts and down onto your hands and knees. Trembling, you looked up at him, your glasses askew.

The cloth of his dress shirt stretched tightly across his muscled chest as he let out an impatient growl. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine, “Hurry up. What did I hire you for? To be a glorified paperweight?”

Rubbing your thighs together unconsciously, you replied meekly, “No, sir. Sorry, sir.” Your gaze dropped back to the floor, face flushed, doing your best to gather the paper on the ground. Your short skirt slowly rode up your ass as you crawled around to gather the documents. It was impossible to ignore the heat welling between your legs as Guilliman’s leer intensified.

You were about to get up once you organized the papers again when you felt the heavy pressure of the ceo’s foot on hands pinning you to the floor. You winced, “Mr. Guilliman?”

You whined feeling the pressure of his leather shoe creak against your hands. Afraid of having your hands broken, you quickly addressed him properly, “Sir?”

You sighed in relief as Guilliman moved his foot to your lower back, keeping you down on your hands and knees.

“Stay down.” he ordered. You obediently did as he asked.

He hummed thoughtfully as his foot teased your skirt up, exposing your silk-covered cunt. You had worn that pair of blue silk panties wanting to feel a little fancy. You whimpered, feeling the leather tip of his shoe teasingly rubbing up and down your slit, despairing when you feel your arousal spreading between your inner thighs. The silk panties couldn’t hide that now. You trembled and stuttered, “S… S… Sir…?”

Guilliman chuckled, pressing the tip of his foot harder, seeing the darkening damp patch on the blue silk “Maybe I should add ‘glorified paperweight’ to your resume. Seems like you like it enough.”

[ratinavan]

Recently, someone in the S&Co discord server requested Sherlock and John as Shane and Ryan from Buzzfeed Unsolved, so you know I had to take a crack at it!

If you have any more suggestions for scenes you’d like to see recreated with the pod boys, drop me an ask! You can request anything, not just the spooky boys :3

[peachie-kittie]

I love 'The Post-Traumatic Manifesto'

It's a small project made by the creator Weevildoing, and I've been obsessing. And considering I'm. Experiencing. I'm gonna force my love for this series onto everyone else.

Various headcanons be upon ye all:

There are two girls who could be considered "early risers" - Caliber and Irreverent. Caliber because she works a 9-5 on top of going to the gym, and Irreverent because the religious sermons co attended has influenced her sleep schedule. Co, however, prefers them nowadays to watch the sunrise :)

Also Caliber wakes up that early to either make coffee at home or splurge on fancy coffee - fancy coffee is saved for holidays, rough days, or as a littol treat. She will never admit to that third one though.

Girls with the most FUCKED sleep schedule include Splitter (to no one's surprise), Disposable, Fainant (<- hear me out-), and Caliber.

Splitter is splitter (/affect i adore her). Disposable likes to stay up late playing bideos games, watching anime, scrolling tumblr (ILL GET BACK TO THIS LATER), or researching conspiracy theories. Fainant WOULD have a normal sleep schedule in their ideal life but due to their ME/CFS and many other disabilities and chronic issues they kinda just have accepted her sleep schedule will always be a bit fucky. And Caliber, despite being an early riser is prone to working late. Go to bed at 2 and wake up at 6 kinda lady. This is why she needs coffee.

Chocobo would LOVEEE to work as a barista. Not at fuckbucks but like. If he could get paid properly and be considered a Cool Barista:tm: it'd be THRIVING.

Adding onto that; if it were a barista she'd work at the same coffee shop Caliber visits and Caliber describes him as "the sweetheart who writes nice notes on her cups and can make a killer hazelnut latte."

Splitter and Disposable are friends - semi-long distance, like an hour - and they bond over anime, games, and all the out-there shit they both like/believe (conspiracies and such). They keep each other up watching anime or gaming over discord its amazing. They also both confide in each other about violent or s/h related urges, just kinda listening and going along. They're both SEVERELY mentally ill so they dont really try to give advice; theyll just mutually acknowledge it and be like "yeah that shit sucks. ill hate it/them with you tho."

^^^everytime they meet up they spend at least 3 days together.

Chocobo and Fainant are also friends. Specifically, Chocobo loves to bake sweets for Fainant and Fainant will invite Bo over for frequent movie nights, tea parties, and general hangout sessions lot. Chocobo is one of few people Fainant will willingly go out with because he is willing to leave as soon as they say theyre getting tired.

Chocobo and Irreverent are the UNLIKELY DUO!!! Chocobo is excitable and sociable and anxious and Irreverent is aloof and a lil socially detached but a good logical counterpart who isn't as worried about what others think.

To that end, Chocobo is an age regressor (between ages 10-14 usually) - it won't do it in front of many people, but he trusts Irreverent to caregive. Co makes sure to be extra careful with Bo's boundaries during these times.

Taxidermy and Chocobo don't know eachother BUT Fainant knows Taxidermy and has been intending to introduce the two.

Taxidermy and Fainant never go out. Unlike Chocobo, Taxidermy is the friend Fainant will scroll on their phone with and occassionally send memes for hours then go out for McDonald's at 2 am.

OH ALSO. Splitter and Fainant are work buds. They work at the McDonalds mentioned above. They talk over discord and also send each other memes.

Im not sure how many of you follow Weevil on instagram but. there was a post where Bo very clearly has a crush on Disposable and honestly. Yeah.

For context, there's a skate park near the cafe - and Disposable skateboards there and practices moves on railings and shit. One time Chocobo saw Disposable successfully pull off a kickflip coming off a rail and it's heart went doki-doki.

Splitter has met Chocobo in person a total of two times - the cafe is a rare safe place for Splitter and Disposable to hang out in a dark corner - and both times she could SEE Chocobo staring.

She has tried to get Disposable to talk to him. It is VERY hesitant. Next time Splitter visits she plans to drag Disposable over to Chocobo.

Okay so anyway hard pivot back to Caliber and CHEMICAL!!

Chemical canonically loves rhythm games and fitness - what I'm saying is that she attends the same gym as Caliber and they share a Zumba class.

Whenever Caliber is there Chemical is lovingly on her ass - making sure she drinks water and always inquiring about her home life. Caliber spares details, not wanting to worry a LITERAL TEENAGER, but takes her advice to stretch and drink water.

Caliber admires Chemical's high energy and boldness - and constantly tells her to use those strengths to her advantage. Chemical doesn't seem to fully believe her but appreciates it anyway.

Chemical sees Caliber as an older sister figure for sure.

Chemical is another friend of Fainant! They don't hang out as much as Taxidermy or Chocobo but Chemical helps Fainant stay as active as they can with all their disabilities.

Same for Splitter. She got Splitter into rhythm games. They also geek out about figmas, gundams, and garage kits together.

A decent chunk of the girls deal with feelings of nonhumanity btw - not even just in a trauma way. Fully convinced Disposable is a dog therian and is trying to unlearn its inner cop.

I have more but this feels excessive. Weevil if you see this I hope they vibe. also hi i love this series sm

[null-doesnothing]

IT IS DONE ‼️ HE IS HERE‼️‼️‼️ I LOVE HIM

stupid I ❤️ London shirt as courtesy of the S&Co discord server requesting it when I asked what to put on his shirt lmao. I had far too much fun shading >:] he still might go through some changes especially with outfit stuff for obvious reasons but like, I like his hair and facial hair so this is a W in my book

[holoubek]

jsem jediná, komu připadá, že to jde s Dírou z kopce?

je úplně v pořádku, pokud ano, ale v polovině kazety #63 jsem musela přestat a od té doby vůbec nemám chuť se k podcastu vracet. připadá mi, že se čím dál tím častěji jedná o vyjádření přímých postojů autorů k tématům, do kterých jim s prominutím vůbec nic není.

dobře, všichni známe stereotyp jednoho homosexuálního muže ve skupině heterosexuálních žen. co je punchline? že to tak je? ironie toho, že si ženy vytvoří "safe space", ale je tam přítomen muž? to, že se detektivové rozhodnou předstírat, že jsou taky gayové? v ten moment jsem kazetu vypnula, protože tohle je jako vtip prostě slabé. pročež jsem dorazila na komunitní discord, abych si mohla přečíst, kterak jeden z autorů chtěl dát postavě AIDS.

v díře je tolik prokletí, nedává mi proto smysl, proč by to dělal. jediný důvod, který mi přijde možný, je, že by to bylo bráno jako komedický prvek. moje otázka v tu chvíli je, co je na smrtelné nemoci tak vtipného.

hodně mi taky vadila kazeta #56, kdy agresorka (nepravdivě) omlouvá svoje činy tím, že byla obětí sexualizovaného násilí. můžeme říct, že v epizodě autoři zaujali správný postoj vůči násilí, které odsuzují, ale celý tento aspekt jejich perspektivu kazí. přijde mi dost nevkusné, aby se postava vymlouvala právě takhle, když z reálného života víme, že problém je opačný - skutečným přeživším lidé nevěří. mám pocit, že autoři téma dost zlehčovali.

nakonec už bych zmínila jen ten fakt, že lafka v kazetě #59 řekne rasistickou nadávku. ta scéna je úplně zbytečná, nebyl jediný důvod, proč by to muselo v epizodě být. z mého pohledu se jedná jenom o pokus být edgy a speciální ze strany autorů.

fanoušek se na discordovém serveru zeptal, zda by bylo možné, aby byly k epizodám přidána upozornění na citlivá témata, což by mnohým posluchačům pomohlo. odpověď autorů byla, že se rozhodli proti. racionálního vysvětlení proč už se nikdo nedočkal.

díře chybí jakákoli hloubka. citlivá témata, která se objevují, jsou prvoplánová a nenutí posluchače se jakkoli zamyslet, jedná se tedy pouze o rage-bait a snahu se radikálně odlišit. z celkem dobrého nápadu na podcast se stala snůška špatných vtipů, snaha šokovat a pohrdání fanoušky.

počítám s tím, že se mnou nebudou všichni souhlasit (proboha, doufám, že ne! každému jeho vlastní názor), ale tohle jsou mimo jiné důvody, proč už se k díře nikdy nevrátím. dál budu podporovat dírské umělce na tumblru, ale sama se chci distancovat.

[winterchimez]

🔎 — the 007 files

James Bond—or rather, the public was more aware that his code name, agent 007, has been working behind the scenes for decades now. imagine this: what if the agent 007 that you have come to know of was actually more than just one person? what if the famous group The Boyz were all agent 007 working under M16. buckle up as you access M16's top secret operative files, aka the most famous missions these individual agents have succeeded in.

A/N: why hello my fellow readers! i present to you a tbz x 007 cross-over collab series!! i've had this idea for a while now and thanks to @sungbeam who gave me the genius idea of hosting an open collab (and co-planning with me) for this!! i'm so so excited and i really hope this doesn't flop lmao 😭 so yes, please feel free to join the fun! 😉

🔎 STARRING: the boyz x f!reader/oc // g.n!reader/oc

🔎 GENRE: crime, angst, fluff, crack, suggestive, smut (only for 18+ writers!!), assorted pairings (more to be added)

🔎 WARNINGS: will be stated in each respective files!

RULES & REGULATIONS:

↬ choose a tbz member & a bond film to start off! you may write the story loosely based on the storyline of the film/a certain scene(s) inspired by the film itself! or alternatively, write it based on the themed song for the specific film you have chosen! (eg: sangyeon - the spy who loved me)

↬ slots will be first come first served! in total there will be 11 slots for 11 members

↬ only tbz member x reader / tbz member x oc!! no tbz member x member for this

↬ as mentioned above, writers will have the option to choose to either write a female/gender neutral reader/oc!

↬ minimum wc would be 1k, and there's no maximum so feel free to write as much as you'd like! pls include a "read more" feature after your summaries/genre/warnings/word count/a.n.

↬ you are allowed to write any genre you like! pls make sure you're over 18+ if you wish to include smut in your work.

↬ no sensitive topics will be allowed (eg: su*c*de, r*pe, r*cism, etc.)

↬ i will be making a discord gc for easier access, updates, and even brainstorming with one another! it will also help me loads with any announcements i will be making. joining in would be highly encouraged (though if you choose not to that's totally fine by me, just keep me regularly updated in my dms!)

↬ the project will officially kick start off on December 1st 2023, and you will have till March 31st 2024 to complete your work! if ever you wish to drop out / need a bit more time to publish your work pls do let me know!!

↬ fill out this google form to secure your place in this collab :) (key: shaken not stirred)

↬ lastly, reblog this post, @ me in your fics & use the hashtag 🔎 — the 007 files in your works!!

FILES:

Lee Sangyeon — The Spy Who Loved Me @winterchimez

Jacob Bae — The World Is Not Enough @snowflakewhispers

Kim Younghoon — Goldfinger @daisyvisions

Lee Hyunjae — Skyfall @kkinou

Lee Juyeon — For Your Eyes Only @juyeonszn

Kevin Moon

Choi Chanhee — No Time To Die @maessseongs

Ji Changmin — Casino Royale @sungbeam

Ju Haknyeon

Kim Sunwoo — On Her Majesty's Secret Service @kimsohn

Eric Sohn — From Russia With Love @cloverdaisies